


The Fall

by AnnabelleRowan



Series: fem!Johnlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, Joana Watson, POV John Watson, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, fem!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnabelleRowan/pseuds/AnnabelleRowan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joana gets out of the taxi. Her phone rings. Her life ends.</p><p>Sherlock's suicide, John's POV, everything is the same except they are both girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall

World collapses around Joana.

“Oh, God..”

“I-I.. I can’t come down so will just have to do it like this.” Sherlock’s voice says into her ear.

“What’s going on?” She hears herself say. And she knows this tone. She switched to autopilot, this is her ‘on a mission’ voice and that’s the best for now.

Joana’s not-autopilot self wants to run, or curl up in a ball, or cry, or somehow do all three actions at the same time. Cause this is not happening. It isn’t.

“An apology.” Sherlock answers.

There’s a pause.

“It’s all true. Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty.”

It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t sound like Sherlock. It’s here voice, her words, but it doesn’t add up.

Joana likes clean and simple conversations when on a mission, so she goes straight to it.

“Why are you saying this?” she asks, and even though she’s on autopilot, it sounds a bit broken.

“I’m a fake.” Sherlock says and the alarm that goes off in Joana’s head is so loud her head is going to explode.

Her heart already did.

“Sherlock” she tries, but Sherlock cuts her off.

“The newspapers were right all along.” She says, and Joana thinks “ _Kitty Riley?!!_ ”

She’s trying to see if there’s someone behind Sherlock keeping a gun to her head or something. _Or something_. Thank you, years of army training. Shit, shit, _shit_.

Sherlock continues. Nothing makes sense.

“I want you to tell Lestarade, I want you to tell Mrs Hudson.. and Molly.. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you, that I invented Moriarty for my own purposes.”

“Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up, the first time we met, first time we met, you knew all about my brother, right?” Joana practically hisses in her phone, and realises her autopilot broke and she’s flying on her own.

But she has to stop Sherlock, everything is wrong and it has to _stop_.

“Nobody could be that clever.” Sherlock says.

“You could.” She immediately responses and she believes it, believes it with her whole heart. She does.

Joana hears Sherlock cackle at this.

She knows the lines her face makes when she does, and it hurts, hurts so fucking bad. This is not happening.

There is a pause, like Sherlock is stepping away, only to come back at full force and give it the final blow.

“I researched you.” She says and now her tone is different, like when she’s dealing with stupid people, explaining her genius, like she’s talking to Lestrade.

Joana grinds her teeth, keeps grinding them, because no, no, no.

“I’ve researched you, before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you.”

The effect is bit ruined though, when she sniffs.

Joana closes her eyes and shakes her head. Her body is physically not accepting this.

“It’s a trick. It’s just a magic trick.” _And what is Sherlock even talking about??_

“No! Alright stop it now..” Joana is not shouting exactly, but she has to snap Sherlock out of this, she has to snap _herself_ out of this, and she starts moving towards Bart, but Sherlock stops her.

“No, stay exactly where you are!”

“Okay, alright” Joana takes three steps back, lifting her hand in universal ‘unarmed, slow down, I’ll do what you say’ way.

“Don’t move.” Sherlock is almost yelling at her, her breathing fastened.

“Keep your eyes fixed on me.” And her voice breaks, Joana can hear it, and oh my god _no_.

“Please would you do this for me?” Oh god  _no, no, no_.

“Do what?” asks Joana because she’s numb and cold all over, and she knows what’s next but it still hits her.

Sherlock takes a breath, like she’s collecting herself.

“This phone call, is my note. It’s what people do, don’t they? ” she says, her words dead serious, her voice completely calm.

“Leave a note?”

“Leave a note, when?” and Joana Watson deserves an award for playing dumb till the very end, she deserves a fucking _Oscar_.

“Goodbye Joana.”

“No.. don’t..” and it’s like in a nightmare, everything is in slow motion – Sherlock is still holding a phone, and Joana doesn’t have a voice anymore, what exactly is she supposed to say anyway? Don’t do this? Don’t jump?

Sherlock tosses her phone away.

Desperate times - desparate people, as it goes.

“Shi.. Sherlock!” she screams from the top of her lugs.

Sherlock jumps.

“Sherloc..”

She’s still standing, in fact, she’s running towards the place Sherlock fell ( _no, no, no, no, no_ ) but it feels like she’s moving through the water mass. Her arms and legs are so, so heavy to move. There’s no sound, the whole world gone mute, and she sees nothing but the things right in front of her.

She sees her.

Black hair sprawled on the pavement, her blue scarf still around her neck.

Something hits Joana from the side and she’s flies forward, hits her head on the pavement. Hard.

Silence is gone. Static is everywhere.

She gets ups up and keeps going.

Cause that’s what you do when someone is wounded and you are a doctor. You get to them and you help them and you ignore the bullets and the grenades.

Except.

Except this is London, not Afghanistan, and there are no bullets flying, nor grenades falling around.

And _Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock_.

She keeps muttering her name under the breath.

Because no. Because let me through, this is maybe not Afghanistan, but I’m still doctor, I save people, let me through _I’m her friend_..

There is so much blood.

People are stepping into it and that’s wrong, you should..

There’s no pulse.

She’s holding her wrist and she done this thousand, _million_  times and there is no..

Somebody pulls her hand away.

And then they move Sherlock, and Joana’s legs finally give up on her.

She slumps down and

_Jesus, no.._

_God, no.._

Her eyes are open.

Her wonderful blue eyes who saw so many details everybody else missed, who looked at Joana and _saw_ her, her eyes are not moving and they are reflecting the grey sky above them, and the side of her face is covered in blood and.. her hair, Joana touched that hair, her hair is soaking in blood.

They put her on a stretcher and Joana hears the flutter of wings, she watches, but she sees nothing and they take her away, Sherlock is bloody and dead and _gone_.

There is a hole, physical place in Joana’s chest and she can’t breathe, it’s crushing her lungs, her heart exploded million years ago.

While she was still talking to Sherlock. She was talking to her just now, this is a mistake, if she _just_ spoke to her, who did they take away on a stretcher.. and then, before she can lose her mind in endless circle of denial, she looks down and sees she’s standing in the puddle of blood.

And _oh my god there’s a whole_ puddle _of it,_ red _puddle and Joana is standing in it and that’s Sherlock’s blood and_

Apparently that circle is also not good.

She has to find something to do, somewhere to be. And she wants Sherlock. And Sherlock, by now, is probably in the morgue.

“Grey.. little.. chees.. Mouse!” She remembers. “Molly!”

And if anything, she managed not to make it an endless circle.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, okay, why do I do this, why every time I try to write some nice fluff for my lovely ships I end up writing shit like this, and here I didn’t even wrote much, I just more or less re-wrote the scene that ruined my life into fem!lock and John’s (well, Joana’s) POV; and this is not a promise, but I wrote more about them and it’s not exactly canon stuff and it’s actually, like 90% of totally unnecessary panic and angst and after that hopefully some porn and I’ll maybe post it when I learn to write proper porn, I’m so terrible, okay, I’ll stop now.


End file.
